


the three rules of beacon hills high (there is a cult in school)

by graveltotempo



Series: The Hale-Stilinski Pack [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Pack Mom Stiles Stilinski, Protective Derek Hale, Protective Pack, Protective Stiles Stilinski, Slice of Life, Sterek Bingo, Sterek Bingo 2020, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:14:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24129535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graveltotempo/pseuds/graveltotempo
Summary: there are three clear cut rules in Beacon Hills High School:1. Do not hurt Stiles Stilinski, unless you want his friends after you2. Do not hurt Stiles Stilinski’s friends, unless you want him after you3. Do not flirt with Stiles Stilinski, unless you want his boyfriend after you
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: The Hale-Stilinski Pack [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/360254
Comments: 21
Kudos: 2133





	the three rules of beacon hills high (there is a cult in school)

**Author's Note:**

> i know that technically i closed this series and all, BUT, BUT. I reserve the right to add some fics when im in the mood and when im having trouble writing so just enjoy it, okay?

  1. **Do not hurt Stiles Stilinski, unless you want his friends after you**



Danny wasn’t stupid; ever since Stiles Stilinski had returned to Beacon Hills, looking hot and pretty, but still as annoying as ever, things had changed in Beacon Hills High School.

Before, back in freshman year, Stiles had only really had _one_ other friend: Scott McCall. The two of them made one complete loser, and, while they weren’t at the _bottom_ of the food chain, they didn’t really have many friends.

Scott was the cute asthmatic kid that was way too nice for his own good, and struggled with academics. He wasn’t bullied, per se; simply, he didn’t have friends.

And Stiles? He was known as the hyperactive spaz who couldn’t sit still for more than a few minutes, happened to be the son of the Sheriff and was incredibly annoying.

He didn’t get bullied either, but more than often he found himself shoved into lockers or tripped and stuff; he was funny though, which would have probably gained him some immunity with the Beacon Hills bullies, had he not been so loyal to Scott and so enamoured with Lydia Martin.

That is to say that, when he returned to Beacon Hills, looking cute as hell, hair grown out and a lesser case of ADHD, Danny had not really expected things to change. Sure, Stiles wasn’t making heart eyes at Lydia all the time, and wasn’t begging Danny to know if he was attractive to gay guys, but it was still Stiles. Right?

And yet...

Danny watched as Stiles walked towards the lockers, deep in conversation with Vernon Boyd _and_ Lydia Martin. A new development that made no sense and yet was still plain for everyone to see.

Resident quiet loner Vernon Boyd was speaking animatedly - he wasn’t gesticulating or anything, but his face was smiling and there was a twinkle in his eyes that Danny had never thought he would see - and Lydia Martin was engaging back, an actual smile and a couple of chuckles gracing her face. Stiles and Jackson were walking with them, the latter quietly listening to their words, while the brunet kept pouting and complaining about what they were saying.

Jackson nodded at him when he spotted him, but before either of them could say anything, a huge figure crashed against Stiles, sending him on the floor, head hitting the lower row of the lockers, _hard_.

“Fuck _me_ ,” let out Stiles, the books he was holding on the floor and his backpack digging hard in his back. “That hurt!”

Lydia and Boyd were both immediately at his side, the red head pulling him up in a sitting position. “Stiles? Are you okay?”

“I think I’m bleeding. Am I bleeding? It feels like I’m bleeding.” he grouched, eyes shut. 

“You’re not bleeding,” reassured Lydia patting his shoulder.

Boyd didn’t say anything, putting a hand on Stiles’ cheek, a frowning expression on his face. Stiles’ features relaxed at this and he let out a soft sound. “Dude, thank-”

His eyes snapped open when he heard the sound of someone being smashed against the wall of lockers, and immediately widened. “Jackson, man,” he started, but the blue eyed boy wasn’t looking at him.

Danny winced sympathetically when Jackson’s hand tightened on the man who had just shoved Stiles - Lewis? Stewart? He wasn’t too sure of his name.

“What the _fuck_ ,” started Jackson, though his voice sounded almost like a growl. “Is your _problem?_ ”

The man weakly grabbed at Jackson’s wrist, but the other’s hold didn’t waver. “What’s _your_ problem man? It’s just Stilinski,” he tried, then his face turned red when Jackson let out an actual snarl.

“Jackson, come on,” tried Stiles again, but when he tried to stand, Boyd kept a firm hand on his chest. The brunet turned to look at him, and Boyd shrugged.

“You could have a concussion.”

“Okay, then why don’t you go and _stop_ Jackson before he gets himself in trouble?”

For a second, Danny thought that Boyd’s eyes flashed yellow; but when he spoke again, his eyes looked the same as usual. “I cannot assure that if I let go of you I won’t go there an punch all of his teeth back into his brain,”

Stiles rolled his eyes, and the guy who had previously pushed Stiles - seriously, what was his name? Emmet? Markus? - almost whimpered.

It was Lydia who stood up from where she had been crouched checking Stiles’ head - part of Danny wondered what _could_ she possibly know about head injuries, but it was _Lydia_ after all - and approached the duo.

“Jackson here is going to let you go,” she started while the blond’s hold tightened as he glared down at the man, who promptly started whimpering, “And you’re going to apologise to Stiles. Or,” and here she smiled, a threatening and slightly unhinged smile, “I’m going to let him beat you to a pulp while we all go eat our lunch.”

“ _Lydia_ ,” complained Stiles, and the girl turned to him with a small pout.

“What? I’m _compromising_ , just as you said!” 

Stiles rolled his eyes again, before his gaze went to Jackson. “Jax. Let go of him and help me up, please.” he said, and Danny was shocked when the blond actually did as he said. He pulled Stiles up while Lydia and Boyd grabbed the books he had left on the floor for him, but still glaring at - Matt? Blake? - the other boy.

The bully in question massaged his red neck, and swallowed, avoiding Stiles’ friends’ gaze. “Sorry, Stilinski,” he finally said, still not looking at him.

Boyd made to say something, his eyes narrowed, but Stiles grabbed his hand before he could. “It’s all good, I’m _sure_ it was an accident, Martin.” 

( _Martin!_ )

“Come on guys, I’m starving!” then said Stiles, forcibly dragging Boyd away while Lydia and Jackson shot one last glare at Martin and followed him.

** 2. ** ** Do not hurt Stiles Stilinski’s friends, unless you want him after you **

“Danny!” called Jackson, and the Hawaiian smiled at his best friend.

He took his saved seat gratefully, and tried not to be yet again curios about the people he was currently sitting with.

Danny liked to call it the ‘Stiles Stilinski Cult’; the few other students in school who had picked up on it referred to it as ‘those freaks’, but he had heard Jackson once before referring to them as ‘ _pack_ ’.

The ‘pack’ kind of defied the typical high school hierarchy, seen as it was mostly a ragtag group of kids who, theoretically should _not_ be hanging out together. And they didn’t, until a few months before when Stiles Stilinski had returned.

There was no reason for Scott McCall, ex asthmatic kid and co-captain of the lacrosse team to sit with Lydia Martin, queen of the school and Erica Reyes, resident epileptic as well as leather jacket wearing hottie.

Or for Isaac Lahey, newly orphaned boy living with his ‘cousin’ - Derek Hale was not his cousin, it was the town’s worst kept secret, but no one asked him to move away when Derek was the only one who had stepped up to take care of him - in the woods to be chatting amicably with Jackson Whittemore, school bully, asshole - what? Danny was his best friend, _he_ could say that - and other co-captain of the school’s lacrosse team.

And yet for reasons that _had_ to have to do with Stiles, all of them sat together at the cool kid table, making jokes that Danny sometimes didn’t get and just having a good time together.

Not that they purposefully excluded him; Jackson always made sure to include him in every discussion they had, and Isaac always gave him little smiles and quietly talked to him when everyone was busy arguing with each other.

“Stiles,” called Erica, nearly knocking Danny’s plate off. She didn’t even apologise, the asshole. “Look at _this_!”

The brunet looked up from where he had been explaining something to Scott and took the paper he was being handed with an arched eyebrow. “You got a _B_!” he then said, a smile immediately gracing his features. “Attagirl! I told you you could do it.”

“Wait,” complained Isaac, while Erica preened under the compliments. “He handed his own paper to Stiles, a small pout on his face. “I nearly got that B too, I was one mark off.” He looked contrite for a moment. “Derek won’t be disappointed, will he?”

Stiles didn’t look up from the paper he was looking at, but his hand was immediately on Isaac’s neck, caressing it comfortingly. “Derek will never be disappointed in you, babywolf.”

And _those_ nicknames. Don’t get Danny started.

Of course he knew that Stiles was a master of nicknames, having been one of the recipients for this back in freshman year. But the nicknames he gave the ‘pack’? They were strange.

He always called Isaac ‘babywolf’; Scott was ‘puppy’, and Jackson was ‘angelwolf’. Erica was ‘catwoman’, which made sense, while Boyd was ‘bossywolf’. The fact that the theme was ‘wolf’ or animal, and the fact that they called themselves the ‘pack’ did very little to convince Danny that they weren’t in some sort of cult.

“What the fuck,” finally said Stiles, looking at Isaac’s paper and the other boy looked worried. Immediately Stiles caressed his neck again, before turning his attention to Jackson and Danny. “I need your papers. You too, Scotty.”

Jackson frowned for a moment, before both he and Scott handed him their papers. Danny hesitated for a second. “ _Why_ do you need my paper, Stilinski?”

Stiles shrugged. “Lydia and Boyd are both in AP Chemistry,” he told him, like it was some sort of answer. When Danny didn’t relinquish the paper, Stiles rolled his eyes. “Relax, Dannyboy. I just need to check something quickly.”

Finally the Hawaiian handed him his own, and watched, while everyone else started focusing on something else, as a deeper frown formed on Stiles’ face. Then, abruptly, he stood up, all the papers secure in his hold. 

“I need to speak to Harris,” he decided, ignoring the confused looks everyone sent his way and immediately walking away.

The rest of the group stayed seated looking after him, but Danny immediately was on his feet too, chasing after Stiles.

“I’m not _leaving_ you with my paper!” he told him when the brunet glanced at him from the corner of his eye, still striding away. “I worked hard for that A.” 

“Then come along,” said Stiles, like he was offering him some great present. “But you stay outside while I talk to Harris.”

“But-”

Stiles turned to face him, and his expression was unreadable, almost hard. “If I could do this without your paper, I’d do it. But I need your paper.” He put a hand on Danny’s neck, like he did with Isaac. ‘ _To soothe you_ ’, offered a part of Danny’s brain, like this wasn’t the weirdest thing in the world. It felt even more intimate than a hug, but Stiles didn’t look embarrassed. “Okay?”

Danny’s mouth moved before he could think. “Okay.”

Stiles shot him a small smile, almost as soft as the ones he gave Scott and the rest of them, before opening the door to Harris’ classroom.

Whatever spell Stiles had put him under lifted enough for Danny to put a foot down before the door could close completely, enough so that he could hear what was going on without anyone else noticing him.

“Mr. Stilinski. What do I owe this.... _pleasure_ , to?”

When Stiles spoke again, his voice wasn’t as happy as it had been at the lunch table, or as sweet as it had been moments ago with Danny.

“You know, Harris, I’m not an idiot. I know that, for whatever reason, you don’t like me. I know you keep marking me down for the most absurd reasons in my papers, but I don’t need more than a pass in chemistry for what I’m planning to study in college.”

“I don’t know what you-”

“So, I don’t really _care_ about what grades you give me. What I do care about is that you turned your personal vendetta against me on my _friends_.” Stiles’ voice was dark. Not _angry_ \- just _dark._ “That I care about.

When Erica, Isaac and Scott spent the entirety of last _month_ studying with me and Boyd, making sure they understood everything you _failed_ to teach in class, and hand in amazing papers and you mark them _down_ , that I care about.”

Danny heard the sound of something being slammed on the table, and Harris’ warningly “ _Mr Stilinski!_ ”, before Stiles spoke again.

“Isaac’s paper is a solid _B_. Where, in the marking criteria for a chemistry paper, does it say to deduct points for grammatical errors? For punctuation? And don’t get me started on _Scott_!”

Another paper was slammed on the table. 

“You gave him a C for reading the numbers wrong, while everything else was absolutely perfect. He followed each calculation to a T, which means his process was correct. The only wrong he did was think it said C57 instead of C54. That’s the only mistake he did and you’re telling me it’s worth two less grades?!”

“It has nothing to do with your ‘friends’,” said Harris, his voice cold. “And frankly, the fact that you would _suggest_ -”

“Here’s Jackson’s paper.” said Stiles, voice almost conversational. “He has more punctuation mistakes than Isaac does, but _none_ of his grammatical errors are highlighted. In fact, there is a really pretty A sitting on his paper.

And Danny,” the boy almost looked inside at the mention of his name, “wrote down the wrong answer. His calculations were all perfect, and he wrote the right solutions. But in the answer sheet he wrote the wrong number. And yet,” to an untrained ear, Stiles might have sounded amused. It didn’t sound amused to Danny. “That wasn’t deducted.”

Harris didn’t say anything, and Stiles gave a humorless laugh.

“You have two choices here, Mr. Harris. You either decide to do nothing, in which case I will have to hand these papers to the head teacher and have _him_ ask you why you insist on treating students differently. That will lead you to have to remark down every single one of these papers to the standards you did Isaac and Scott, which would then result in a lot of furios parents demanding an explanation. The head will have to fire you, especially after _I_ tell my father - you know, the Sheriff - how you’ve been doing this to me since my first year.

Or… you’re going to sit down here, while I stand right here, and you’re gonna mark Isaac and Scott properly. You’re gonna give them the marks they deserve, and never pull this bs ever again.

Because _I_ might not give a shit about my grade, but Scott wants to get into medical school and I will be _damned_ if you are the reason he doesn’t get into it.”

Danny could feel his heart thrumming in his chest, as he waited for Harris to make a decision. It was clear that Stiles wasn’t bluffing, and with the fact that he was one of the smartest people in school _and_ the son of the Sheriff meant that he _could_ do what he said he was going to do.

“Why are you giving me a choice?”

Stiles scoffed. “As I said, I don’t care for you nor my chemistry grade. But I do care about Scott; and Scott does not need a new chemistry teacher that’s just going to have a completely new style of teaching.”

“What about the rest of the class? What if there are other people who got marked down?”

“I am not doing this for moral reasons, Harris.” and Stiles’ voice was devoid of emotions again. “I am not doing this because it’s the ‘ _right’_ thing to do. I don’t care about that.

“I am doing this because I care about maybe 10 people in this school, and you are treating three of them badly just because you can. Greenburg, Matthews, the rest of the class? I could not care _less_ about whether or not they pass. Scott, Erica, Isaac, and making sure they pass? That I care about.

“Now, enough of chatting. Are you gonna mark them properly or what?”

Harris didn’t say anything else. Then, Danny heard the sound of a pen being clicked.

** 3. ** ** Do not _flirt_ with Stiles Stilinski, unless you want his _boyfriend_ after you **

“Danny!” called Stiles as everyone was walking outside, the final bell having just rung.

Stiles grinned when Danny stopped walking handing him a piece of paper. “Your test.”

Danny glanced at his paper, the bright red _A_ still present, and couldn’t help but be a little impressed. He knew that Harris had given in, but it was still a little shocking. Part of him hadn’t been able to think that perhaps he had imagined all of that.

But the way Scott had basically been vibrating with happiness when Stiles had given him his paper back, the C scrapped for an A, meant that it was true after all.

_ I am doing this because I care about maybe 10 people in this school, _ had said Stiles and suddenly Danny couldn’t help but wonder if he was among the 10 people Stiles cared about. He wanted to be. Because if this was what Stiles was capable to do for the people he cared about -

“Are you okay, Dannyboy?” asked him the brunet, concerned, and Danny nodded, a blush forming itself on his face.

Yeah, Danny had a little crush on Isaac, but there was no denying that Stiles’ earlier actions had definitely awakened some stuff in him.

“Listen, Stiles,” he started, but then suddenly there was a shadow over them. He looked up at the body next to them and nearly had a heart attack when he found Derek Hale standing over him, a glare firmly in place.

Stiles jumped too, then frowned. “Dude! I swear to god, I’m getting you a _bell_ , where did you come from?”

Derek glanced at Stiles, and his glare turned into an almost pout. “Don’t call me dude.”

Stiles sighed, but there was a small smile at the corner of his mouth. “Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“Boyd said you got hurt,” he finally explained, and Stiles rolled his eyes at this.

He stood up on his tiptoes and glared at where said man was sitting comfortably in a black Camaro. He was staring at Stiles with a smirk on his face, even though there was no way he could have heard what Stiles and Derek were saying. “You suck!”

Danny couldn’t really say anything, watching as a grumbling Derek Hale inspected the head of a complaining Stiles Stilinski, his very careful movements almost at odds with his general appearance. Once he was sure there were no strange bumps on Stiles’ head, Derek turned his attention on Danny once more.

And Danny kind of wished he hadn’t. Because the earlier glare returned in full force and his nostrils flared a couple of times. Then he moved, imperceptibly until he was almost between him and Stiles and _oh_.

He had never thought that Stiles had a boyfriend, especially not someone older than him but Derek was displaying right there prime jealous boyfriend signals.

And Danny wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t understand them - even though there was no _way_ he could ever be a threat to Derek, let’s be real.

Stiles, the sweet, oblivious fool he was, thought that this was some sort of friendly meet up. “Oh, sorry. Derek, this is Danny, Jackson’s best friend and one of my friends. Danny, this is Derek-”

“I’m Stiles’ _boyfriend_ ,” told him the older man, with no uncertainties.

From the corner of his eye, Danny could see that Erica had joined Boyd in the Camaro and they were both looking at them and cracking up.

“Nice to meet you,” told him Danny, his heart beating frightengly fast. Because no matter how hot his dick informed him that Derek was, his head was telling him to _get away_ before the man did something like attack him or rip his throat out. “I’ll uh,” he caught Derek’s eye again, and looked away immediately, “see you around, Stiles!”

“Wait! You were going to ask me something!” called the brunet, but Danny didn’t turn around.

The new order of rules in school was very clear: don’t fuck with Stiles, don’t fuck with Stiles’ friends and, _for your own sake_ , do not _flirt_ with Stiles. Especially when large, hot and dangerous boyfriends were around.

But then, as he opened the door to his car, and watched as Stiles laughed at something, Derek looking at him almost fondly, he couldn’t help but smile too.

Stiles had called him ‘one of his friends’.

And Stiles protected the ‘ _maybe 10 people’_ he cared about in his school.

Maybe, he was safe from Derek after all.


End file.
